London Bridge
by PeaceLoveAndAcoustics
Summary: Arthur Kirkland's boss has given him specific orders not to have relations with a certain American, Alfred F. Jones. But, when Arthur's boss takes away his position in government, he will be forced to do a degrading job. USUK, Rated M Due to Jack the Ripper Scenes. I will update as soon as possible - on going story


Disturbed.

Something about that word projects a feeling of fear and doubt among the weak hearted population, causing them to look over their shoulders to see if anyone with a pick ax is going to hack away at their exposed skull. Their heartbeat quickens, panic levels sky rocketing, blood boiling, breaths becoming shaky and shallow as their eyes dart around the room in trying to calm themselves down, to get them out of a state of mass hysteria and chaos, and into a mind-set that is truly tranquil. A place where panic, agony, and torture are just words compiled of useless letters, unnecessary and unclean additions to the English language.

But what happens when you become someone who fantasizes about your own kinds demise? Does that mean that you're sick, twisted,_disturbed_? But you see, once it's in your head, you can't stop thinking about it. Thought after thought, scenario after fucking scenario, and it's still there, in the back of your conscious, haunting you until you have enough balls to take some sort of action. Whether it be torturing a person, or taking a life, the thoughts will never stop once you let them seep into your fluid of thoughts. You become this whole other breed, constantly feeding off of the sensation of ending your own race, wanting to make their blood spill, craving to feel it on your hands.

Then what does that make you? Hmmm, _society_? What do you dub this person, since you are the all-knowing and final deciding factor? Will you let your people rot in this hell hole, or will you let the others that are perfectly capable of ending the lives of the innocent do it for you?

Hmm? Where do you stand?

_Go back to your dubbing, you fucking cowards._

It was a day like no other.

The air was chill, a light breeze danced about the city, picking up fallen leaves, making them dance to the beat the wind had produced for them. Random citizens came and went, on their way to appointments, on their way home. Arthur Kirkland was no different than the people on the streets of London, he himself was on his way to work. The English gentlemen smiled as he crossed the street, walking up the stairs to his office.

Arthur made his way into the building, taking off his jacket, waving to the woman behind the desk. His feet lead him to the brown door at the end of the hall, shut due to the important matters that were being discussed behind it. Arthur knocked, and upon hearing "enter", he walked inside of the room, spotting his boss. The British man smiled at him kindly. "Hello, sir. Good evening."

"Yes, good evening to you too, Mr. Kirkland." his boss greeted, pointing to the empty chair across from him, motioning for Arthur to sit. Arthur nodded, and sat down in the chair. "We have important matters we need to discuss, Mr. Kirkland."

"Really? I thought that we had discussed everything that we needed to go over yesterday evening," Arthur said, leaning forward. "What is it that you need to talk to me about?"

"It's about that bloody country of America."

"What about it, sir? They're separated, so they shouldn't be a threat." Arthur told him, leaning against the back of the chair. "And if they want to wage a war with us, then I'm sure that we have the proper equipment to take them down if necessary, and further more-"

"Arthur, we all know about the affair that you're having."

"My...affair?" Arthur felt a huge lump in his throat. He let out a nervous laugh, trying to hide his embarrassment. "And what affair would that be, sir? The only affairs that I attend to would be the affairs that deal with this country!"

"Oh? Then I guess you won't have any trouble explaining why a Mr. _Jones_ was at your manor last week, hm?" His boss questioned, crossing his arms. "Having an affair is one thing, Mr. Kirkland, but it is another matter entirely if you go on and lie about it."

"I-I assure you our meeting was strictly business, sir."

"Then why are you so nervous, Mr. Kirkland?" His boss arched a brow. "If you were just meeting on strictly business, then there should be no reason as to why your nerves are on edge. So, tell me. What did you and Mr. Jones discuss if you were together for 'strictly business'?"

_Arthur felt himself being pinned against the wall, his whole body felt like it was on fire. A pair of wet lips pressed against his neck, exploring. The British man fought back the urge to blush as those specific pair of lips brushed over his special spot. A soft moan escaped his lips, the man beneath him smirked. "Oh, Artie. I can read you like a book."_

"W-What are you talking about, you bloody idiot?"

The man's smirk grew. "I know exactly where to touch you. For example, you like it when I touch you, _**here**__." The man reached down and touch Arthur's closed member, rubbing it a bit._

Arthur bit his bottom lip, trying to fight the urge to moan. "A-Ah! S-Stop that!"

"Oh, Arthur. You know you don't want me to stop."

I never want you to stop. 

"Mr. Kirkland!" His boss snapped, slamming his hands on the desk in front of him, causing him to jump. "I suggest that you straighten up your story, Mr. Kirkland, and then come and talk to me again." The man stood, and walked towards the window. "I will tell you this only once, Mr. Kirkland. You are _never_ to see that man again, understood?" His boss arched a brow, trying to scare the man. "And if I am ever to see you again with the man in question, I will not hesitate to replace you with a man who is more than willing to follow the rules that I have put into place, understand?"

Arthur nodded, even though he hated what his boss was telling him. How was he supposed to tell Alfred that they couldn't see each other any more? He knew deep down in his heart that the freshly independent American wouldn't listen to a word that he would tell him—no, the younger, blonde nation preferred to go through the course of life making up the rules and restrictions as he went along. How could he...tell him no?

"Have we reached an understanding, Mr. Kirkland?" His boss asked one more time, at the end of his sentence he let out a relieved sigh. "I hope you won't take this lightly, because your job is now on the line."

Arthur quickly stood, wanting to get out of the suffocating space of the man's office. Grimly, he started his reply. "Yes, sir. I understand the propositions that you have stated, and I shall follow them accordingly. You have my word that I will not see that man again."

"I'm glad that we had the chance to meet today, Mr. Kirkland. Good day to you."

"Yes, yes. Good day to you as well." Arthur turned on his heel and headed out the door. So, now what? What was he going to say to the young man? 'Oh, my boss knows that you're fucking me, so could you please stop, because I wish to keep my job.' Arthur stopped in the middle of the hallway to think for a moment. No, that wouldn't work. Alfred didn't like the word 'no', and he _certainly _didn't like the command when it was pointed at him directly. Not to mention,Alfred would more than likely throw a flying fit if Arthur told him that he could not see him in person.

Perhaps it would be for the best if Arthur never mentioned it to the American man that they were to never see each other again... Yes, that could work, couldn't it? The less Alfred knew, the better off their relationship would be in the long run.

Well, if they even had a relationship after what just happened. Could they even be friends after his boss' rash decision? And how could he just want him to abandon his love just like that? Did he not even _consider _the fight that he went through the revoultion to try and save his lover?

Arthur shook his head, trying to cast the thought out of his head permanently. No, he couldn't deal with these sort of thoughts right now at this very moment. The blonde Brit gentlemen dug in his coat pocket for his house key, quickly retrieving it. The blonde stuck the key into the lock, unlocking his front door.

Arthur quickly stepped inside, sighing deeply to himself. What a long day it had been. Arthur stripped off his outer jacket, throwing it on a nearby chair. All he wanted to do was go upstairs, crawl into his comfortable bed, and relax.

"Welcome home, dear. I've been waiting for you."

Arthur spun around on his heel, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. There was an intruder in his house! But, who would _dare _sneak onto his property at this hour?  
And that voice...why did it sound oddly, eerily familiar? "Who...Who are you?"

The owner of the voice let out a loud scoff, the sheer volume of the sound magnified, bouncing off of the walls, filling the room. The figure stood up, a broad smile creeping across its face. "Really, darling? I would have thought you, of all people, would have remembered." A pale, lingering hand grabbed a lantern off of a nearby table, quickly lighting it. The flame flickered, the figure's dark shadow casting off of all of the walls in the room.

Arthur let out a large gasp, taking a quick step back. No...it couldn't be. There's no way he could have gotten inside of his house; Arthur had locked the door on his way to work this morning. There was no way in the world that this..._ intruder_ could have... "No...it's not possible!"

The statue walked forward, revealing its owner. A careless stumble was made, spilling some of the clear liquid that was encolosed in a thick, brown bottle. The alcohol escaped onto the carpet, its stench wafting into his nasal cavities.

It truly made him gag on contact.

"Welcome, hic, home, dear." The owner slurred, his feet dragging slightly on the carpeted area, making a shuffling sound as they slid. "I was-was waiting for you, all night I was, hic, waiting." The mysterious intruder turned out to actually have an identity of its own.

Arthur picked up the lit lantern from the table, thrusting it into the direction of the potential threat causing individual. The light flickered about the walls, creating a sea of black, thick shadows dancing about. "You..."

"I told you I'd be here, waiting." Alfred's sneer grew, twisting in a wicked grin as he stepped ever so slightly forward, caressing the other man's cheek. The pale skin felt soft inbetween his loving, soothing fingers. "You didn't believe me. I thought you knew better than to doubt me, sweetheart."

"Don't you dare call me that," Arthur fumed, stepping a pace or two backward; he hit the wall, signifying that he was forever trapped. He put his hands up in the defensive position, ready to take whatever action he deemed to be absolutely necessary. "I'm warning you, Alfred. Do not take another step towards me."

"Why?" The slurred voice cooed, daring to take yet another step forward, completely trapping his prey. "I thought you liked it _rough_, sweetheart? I thought I'd bring up some variety for you."

"G-Get away from me! You're going to cost me my job!" Arthur blurted out, trying to sound threatening. "I swear, Alfred, you better stay away!"

Alfred made his way lovingly over to his enraged partner, parting his alcohol coated lips in order to speak again. "But love," he cooed. "I have been waiting for you _all day_." He raised his arm, bringing the bottle to his lips. "Cheers," He took a rather big swig, trying to drink away all of his troubles.

That bastard! How dare he come in here and try to celebrate scaring him like that! The British man brought his own hand up, smacking the bottle away. It hit the floor, hundreds of tiny, glass shards breaking off when its host made contact with the floor. Jutting his arms out, he pushed the American back, trying to create distance between them. "You listen to me right now, Mr. Jones," He started, biting on every syllable of the sentence. "Get out of my house, and get out of my life. Go back to your own country. Or so help me God, I will make your life miserable."

"But sweetheart, I thought you'd want to celebrate."

"Get. Out!" Arthur shouted, the volume in his voice making the walls vibrate.

Alfred turned away, trying not to show how hurt he was at the Brit's words. "Fine, if that is what you want," The blond stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Stupid Arthur! I waited all day for that bastard, and he didn't even appreciate it!" Alfred shouted, kicking a stone on the street. "I'll show him," Alfred's blue eyes flickered over to the main government office, a wicked smirk painted his lips. "Oh, how _perfect_." He dug into his pocket, retrieving a piece of paper and a pencil, and quickly enscribed:

_To Whomever it may concern,_

I would just like to tell you that your employee and representative, Arthur Kirkland, has been seeing myself, a male, the entire evening. We have been together for a little over a year, and we are still going strong. If you must know my identity, I am the representative of the newly independent country of the United States of America. My name is Alfred F. Jones. Arthur and I have been _**very intimate**__ as of late. In fact, I have asked Arthur to take on my last name for the rest of our days. That is correct, I am talking about __**marriage**__. I shall see you and your full staff at our wedding._

-Alfred F. Jones 

Alfred's smirk grew as he slid it underneath the door. "Stupid Brit, I'll show you,"


End file.
